A Tale of Two
by The Lady Massacre
Summary: Full Summery Inside. A tale of two and their impossible love. Love was never one for the rules, however.
1. Chapter 1

_A T_ale _O_f _T_wo.

-

_Summery: _She had no need to prove herself of anything. She was it. Brave. Loyal. Logical. And even sometimes rash, she was the ideal Gryffindor. And so, she was rightfully called the Gryffindor Princess. As for him? He was witty, acidic, intelligent and cunning. Subtlety was one of his finer qualities, unlike his patience. Heir of Slytherin. They were suited for their roles incredibly, although, there was one little snag. After all, mortal enemies were never meant to fall for one another, now were they?

**Note: **This story is completely and totally A.U. No specific time line. Expect to see people in different age groups then they actually are, and also people from very different time-lines coming together in one story. Muggleborns are especially rare in this world, especially if the the Muggleborn is a woman, as the only exceptionally powerful witches would be Helga HufflePuff and Rowena Ravenclaw, who were pure-blooded. (I looked it up and it had said nothing of their blood, so I'm only assuming so for this story.)

I studied a bit on British ranks and such, but please, forgive me if anything is incorrect.

Tom/Hermione.

* * *

She hated parties. Balls, social events, anything that required her to deal with the flock of those idiotic girls who often swarmed around her, or look for possible and acceptable suitors. She loathed them. With a passion. It was true, she did have a few friends whom she could speak with, dear friends of hers, but because they were knights and were currently stationed outside of the palace, she had no choice but to submit to her father's wishes and mingle with her peers.

It was not as if she were being obnoxious, because she wasn't, but the ladies of the court were so shallow and idiotic she could step into them barefoot and not get wet. And if there was one thing Hermione despised, it was idiocy. True, her friends, aka Harry and Ronald, were not the smartest people in the world, but they were intelligent in their own right. Harry was an excellent knight, and performed his duties splendidly. As for Ronald, he was a strategist, and would often advise her father when circumstances called for it. Although, even when he was perhaps the best Strategist the Land of Lions has ever seen, it did not mean he did not put his foot in his mouth.

If only Ginny was here! Ginny Weasley, along with Luna Lovegood, were perhaps her two best _girl _friends who she ever had the pleasure of meeting when she was eleven. Ginevra, or Ginny, was the youngest of the Weasley family, a family fairly close to her father, Godric Gryffindor. She was the youngest of all the Weasleys, being born after Ronald, and the twins, Fred and George, Billy, and Charlie. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were servants at the castle, but were wonderful people whom she loved very much. Her father was rather fond of them as well, and no matter their rank in society, they were always invited to any ball he was the host of.

As for Luna, she was the daughter of Count Lovegood. Although they were perhaps the most silliest of people she has ever met, believing in Crumpled horn snorkhacks, or whatever they were called, they were Ravenclaws, and were intelligent as well. Luna was a very calm, happy sort of person, whom of which believed there to be good in everybody, and saw little wrong of anyone, unless, of course, they were Slytherins. Even then, though, she gave them all a fair shot. Lune was an only child, having lost her mother at a young age, but that never seemed to bother her.

Right now, at this moment, though, neither one could be found, unfortunately. She had the misfortune of dealing with all these girls alone, and Hermione was ready to whip out her wand and hex a good many of them, and she was not above a few curses at the present moment. She was annoyed to her wits end with these girls, all babbling about the latest fashions, or her hair, and how she looks that evening. All of them were saying how wonderful she looked, adding in gorgeous even, but Hermione knew that they were all stuck up and would stab her in the back later on, should they ever get the chance. They talked about her. She was no idiot, she knew they did. She heard them. But it did not bother her. Not one bit.

As she waded through the masses of ladies, Hermione looked around desperately for any sign of a friendly face. Absolutely none. She would have to go to her last resort, then. Stick to Daddy. Hermione made a bee line for her father, who was currently chatting it up with Rowena Ravenclaw, possibly her favorite Queen. She would absolutely love it if her father married her, however, she could not stand her daughter's obnoxious behavior, and that would be the only regret she could ever have for having such an intelligent and wise woman for a step-mother.

As it was, the girls following her, although they revered her father Godric greatly, were afraid to go near him. It was the absolute perfect escape route from them, and she would be damned if she didn't take advantage of the situation.

So, Hermione went ahead and stood next to her father, listening to his conversation with Rowena involving the advantages and disadvantages of reading books and playing Quidditch, of which he was so engrossed in. Rowena was also captivated with it, and did not notice Hermione standing beside them. Of course Hermione agreed with Rowena, never at all liking Quidditch as much as Harry and Ron did, but she did also agree with her father that getting a bit of sunshine once in a while would be much healthier than staying in the Library.

The ladies who followed her previously had by now backed off, of which she was so terribly grateful. She could now see all of those in the ballroom, and observed each and every one of them. Quite a few men were staring at her, either they were from the Land of Badgers, or rather those under Helga Hufflepuff's rule, or they were from the Land of Ravens, rather unoriginal but still, being under Rowena's rule. Slytherins were very much welcome here on this day, as it was her sixteenth birthday, and her father having previously been a friend of Salazar, but considering who she was, they would not.

Those born in the Land of Snakes were sly, cunning, witty and intelligent. They were also pig-headed, completely and utterly biased, and believed in pure-blood supremacy. And each and every Slytherin hated her. Why? It was simple, really.

She was Muggleborn.

Godric Gryffindor was not her real father. On her ninth birthday, long after discovering she had magical powers, something that was fairly rare in her parent's world of Muggles, her parents were murdered by Slytherins. They had meant to kill her as well, but, she had been in school, and they would rather not step into a Muggle school if they could help it. Their hateful ways had both saved and destroyed her life. It was then, in an outright cry of anger and sorrow her home had burst into flames, and a disguised Godric just happened to be passing by.

Finding her distressed, Godric had tried to comfort her the best way he possibly could, bless the man. It was apparent he was unused to children, but he found her terribly amusing, and he had taken her in, and from then on, he had resolved to give her the best childhood she could ever have. And he did. She had a wonderful childhood. It was true she missed her parents terribly, but Godric was as much as her father as her biological father had been, and she loved him so much.

Often, when she was younger, and even then still, Godric would comment on how studious she was, believing her to be more of a Ravenclaw than anything, but she had proved him wrong on many occasions that not only was she a Gryffindor through and through, she very well could have been his biological daughter, as she was everything he was, and a little more.

"Enjoying your party, Hermy?" Godric asked fondly. Her eyes narrowed, and a grin tugged on his lips. She absolutely loathed that name, but he insisted on using it.

"Very much so, Father. Tell me, would you know where Miss Weasley and Miss Lovegood are?" she asked him curiously. Godric shook his head.

"I'm afraid not, dearest. Perhaps they are dancing?"

Hermione sighed. "I'm afraid not, Father. They would have wished me a happy birthday already, but I have not seen them."

"Hermione," Rowena called with a smile. Hermione turned to her friend, her eyes shining, knowing what is to come. Aunt Rowena loved riddles, and as far as she knew, only her subjects and Hermione herself could solve them. "It's more powerful than God. It's more evil than the devil. The poor have it. The rich need it. If you eat it, you'll die. What am I?"

She frowned. She has never heard of anything more powerful than God.... It was true she wasn't very religious, but if she looked at it from a religious point of view, at least for the first two lines, what would she find? As far as she knew, nothing was more powerful than God, and more evil than the Devil. As for the poor, they don't have much. And the rich, they have everything, so what could they possibly...

"Nothing," she said with a snap of her fingers. "Nothing is more powerful than God, and nothing is more evil than the Devil. The poor have nothing, the rich need nothing, and if you eat nothing, you will die."

Rowena smiled proudly. "Very good, deary. Now, off with you, and try to enjoy your birthday. I am sure there is many young men who would love to dance with the Gryffindor Princess," she ushered. Hermione smiled, but shook her head as she walked off. She wasn't going to dance with any young men, however. She was going to read a book, no matter what her father said.

She maneuvered her way through the ball room, giving thanks to all of those who stopped her and wished her a happy birthday, conversing with those only when she was forced to. Finally she managed to slip out, and a sigh of relief left her. No one would notice she was missing, and perhaps if they did, they wouldn't find her unless they knew her completely, and that was a rare few.

The clicking of her heels were the only sound heard throughout the halls, aside from the soft echo of live music playing and the rustling of her dress as it was dragged along the floor, and her calm, even breaths that filled the air. A sense of serenity filled her, and she only had to look out the window to see the peaceful full moon lurking above them. Hermione blinked twice, before returning to her path that lead to her precious library.

The library was her home, her sanctuary. It was her safe-haven, and her escape from reality. She loved indulging in her studies, and sometimes even reading for just the enjoyment of it. She loved reading of different people and their lives, learning with them, crying with them, and the satisfaction of finishing a novel. Hermione lovingly pushed the oak doors open, stepping inside, embracing the silence warmly. She breathed in, allowing herself to feel the comfort only thousands of books could bring, with the never ending knowledge and satisfaction it often brought.

Her father's library was well equipped. In her early memories of living in Godric's Hollow, the library had little to no books, and the few he did have were of adventurous young lads saving damsels in distress. She loved those books well enough, but it would often get repetitive and boring. So, she had requested that there be books of all sorts, novels, novellas, short stories, and academic books of all levels. The Library was her own, her own personal room besides her chambers, and in it were all sorts of books she had collected over the years. The Academic books were on all subjects such as Transfiguration, Potions, Divination (although after reading a few chapters and her lessons with Professor Trelawney, a previous tutor, she believed it all to be a bunch of rubbish), Defense Against the Dark Arts, Caring for Magical Creatures, Charms, Astronomy, Herbology and History of Magic.

The History of Magic was a surprisingly small amount, though she was not all that surprised. Still, she wondered if there was a bit more that no one knew. She was taught for seven years, along with Harry and Ron, by select tutors, although Harry and Ron were only taught by them because Hermione had demanded it. Usually children would be taught by their own parents, but a bit of tutoring couldn't harm anyone. She loved all lessons, but she was particularly good at Arithmancy and Transfiguration, along with Potions. Her teachers said she did excellent in every subject, aside from Defense, but then again, she wasn't failing that class either, and Hermione prided herself on her intelligence.

Still, though. Aside from all the vast ranges of knowledge she could learn, it wasn't the comfort of knowledge that she sought. It was her Muggle Literature. She had managed, with her father's help, to save quite a few books that her real father and mother had managed to collect over their years, and she insisted on keeping them all. With some quick spell work, Godric had saved her books for her, and their were only a few with a burn mark on them. So it was there she was headed. It was her own little sin, for she knew that it wasn't really accepted amongst the wizarding world. Not even Godric approved, even though he understood the sentimental values of the books.

Only Rowena Ravenclaw understood her need for them, and for that she was truly thankful.

As she moved forward, she knew she was not alone. Her wand out, she steadily walked around, browsing the books, hoping she looked like she knew not of the person's presence. However, she was no Slytherin, and she knew she was terrible at being subtle. Hermione browsed the books, going down aisle by aisle, until she found him.

Looking at her Muggle Literature.

The first thing she noticed about him was that he was garbed in green and silver robes. He was most definitely a Slytherin. Not only that, but he was pale, and his fingers were long and slender. His hair was long, but well cut, and looked to be like ebony ribbons descending from his head. He was tall, much taller than her, and he was reading her Muggle Literature. _Hers_.

"Forgive me if I am incorrect," she said, hands placed firmly on her hips, "but are Slytherins not also taught things such as manners?"

The man turned around, and Hermione could not help but think him handsome. He had a handsome face, one that looked to be carved by angels. She was wary. He smirked, and, with replacing her book, of which she noticed to be _Great Expectations _by Charles Dickens, he replied,

"Manners play in with respect, my little witch, and respect is only given to those that deserve it." he replied. Hermione's eyes instantly narrowed.

"Then it is agreed that I shall not and will not ever respect you?" she retorted. Now it was his turn to become angry, but he seemed unaffected. He looked amused, and that annoyed her greatly.

Instead of dignifying her with a reply, he asked, "No doubt this Muggle Literature is yours?" Hermione nodded tersely. "I wonder, why is it that you are still so fond of your other world? They would reject you should they find out who you are, and the wizarding world will never truly respect you should you not break off from it."

"Considering myself a Muggleborn and a woman, they hardly respect me as it is. I hardly see the point in hiding it. I am fond of my parent's books, Slytherin, and I am damn well proud of my heritage. The Wizarding world may as well get used to it." she told him angrily.

"One should never be proud to be a Mudblood." he told her.

"I am. I will never be ashamed of my birth, and nothing you do or say will convince me otherwise," she replied stubbornly. Hermione paused, and with a frown she asked, "Why is it that you are here in the first place? I was told Salazar would rather burn in the deepest depths of hell than go to a Muggleborn's birthday ball, as for all Slytherins."

At this, Tom smirked, which irked her greatly. "No doubt, my little witch. But, I am here merely to give you dear Salazar's present." Dread washed over her as he said this. His voice was cold, chilling her to the bones, and his smile evil. She found herself not even wanting to know the answer, but she felt she had to ask.

"Which would be?" Her voice was weak. His smirk grew. He smoothly bent down to kiss her on the cheek, and in one fluid movement, he headed for the door. Just as he was about to leave, he flicked his wrist, and her Library, her precious Library, burst into flames. The flames formed words, words that made her want to cry and lash out in anger at the same time.

_'Happy Birthday, _Mudblood_.'_

_-  
_

To say Godric Gryffindor was enraged was an understatement. He was absolutely furious at his past friend for threatening Hermione, calling her a Mudblood, and once more, destroying her books. He was pacing about the throne room as Hermione sat in his throne, with Rowena, Ginny, and Luna by her side, attempting to comfort her. The flames in her Library had grown at too fast a rate for her to even attempt to save her beloved books without being killed, and so she had left her safe-haven to it's unfortunate fate. A part of her felt empty. She had spent so long finding all of those books, and some were original copies of texts, given to her by Rowena. There were no others, and now they were completely lost.

The guests had left, and Harry and Ron had been summoned for Hermione. She just needed them to hug her. She had lost her most valued possessions in the entire world, all thanks to a man in Slytherin. She had no idea what his name was, and the cheek he kissed was burning, as if his heavenly lips had been laced with acid. She hated him, along with every other bloody Slytherin on the earth. Nothing could convince her otherwise.

She refused to cry about all of it, though, no matter how many times her friends assured her it would be fine. She would not cry. She would rather die a thousand deaths than give the Slytherins the pleasure of seeing her tears.

"Who was the boy," Godric demanded from her once more. "I will surely hang him from the highest tower by his throat for this! Salazar will pay, now, Hermione, describe him to me!"

"I told you, Father! All I remember was that he had long ebony hair and pale skin, with slender hands and onyx eyes. He looked to be pureblooded."

"No doubt, aren't all Slytherins purebloods?" Harry asked as he entered the room. Hermione shook her head.

"There are quite a few Halfbloods among their ranks, Harry." she told him calmly.

"Are you alright, 'Mione? Bloody hell, you look like the Library was burned down..." Everyone glared at Ron, aside from Hermione, because he was not helping at all. Hermione sighed. Poor man, he put his foot in his mouth far too often, she felt for him. Instead of yelling at him as she would have done before, she simply said,

"That's because it has."

He stood dumbstruck, and Ginny whacked him on the head. "Sometimes, Ron, I can't believe you're my brother."

"Er.. Hermione... are you, alright?" he questioned softly.

"No she bloody well isn't alright, Ronald! Honestly, all of her books have burned to a crisp, and you ask if she is alright? How idiotic of you!" cried Ginny, and Godric heartily agreed with her.

"Now now, let's just calm down, alright? Hermione needs to calm herself, not listen to you two argue." Luna told them gently, and Hermione smiled in thanks. She did need a bit of peace and quite, she had quite the headache at the moment, and she really wished to go to bed. When she told her father this, he absolutely refused to allow her to sleep without any guards, and immediately, Ron and Harry volunteered to stand outside her room. She was greatly against this, but agreed with her father's reasoning. What if she was attacked? Although she could defend herself pretty well, it would be better to have Harry and Ron beside her than have no one at all.

And so, Hermione was lead to her chambers by Ron and Harry. The silence that filled the air was an awkward one, and one Hermione so dearly loved. Upon entering her room, Hermione bid the two goodnight, before turning away and meeting the amused gaze of one Tom Marvolo Riddle. He was leaning against the bed post, his arms crossed over his chest in a nonchalant manner, watching her with the smallest of smirks on his lips. Oh how she wanted to kill him.

"What is it that you want?" she nearly screamed, but her deadly voice came out only above a whisper, which was perhaps a good thing for Riddle.

"Oh, I was merely wondering if the little witch had enjoyed her present," he smoothly replied, standing straight now. Hermione walked over toward him, her wand hand twitching. She wanted to hex him, or curse him, it didn't matter which, not to her. If he died, so be it. If he suffered from humiliation, so be it. As long as he suffered, she didn't care how.

"How could you do it? How could you burn books, books! You destroyed my Library, my haven, my home! Why?" she cried, furious.

Tom shrugged. "A Mudblood, no less a woman, does not need so many books- it might encourage you to actually think." Hermione's eyes narrowed, and in response Tom cocked an eyebrow. She was furious. How dare that arrogant bastard! She wanted to kill him at that moment, but the goodness in her would not allow her to. Quickly, she whipped out her wand and repeated all the most humiliating spells she knew, and some were quite damaging.

With immense satisfaction she watched his eyes widen in surprise before he deflected them, one by one, and the duel had begun. In the earlier parts of the duel, she had cast a muffliato so that Harry and Ron would not hear the battle. This was her revenge, and hers alone. She did not want to be interrupted, and she certainly wanted to get to him before they did- it was her library he burned, after all.

Neither one lost or gained an inch, the match was equal. This, somehow, amused Tom while it infuriated Hermione. She wanted to beat the living daylights out of him the Muggle way, which was no less dangerous when dealing with someone with a wand.

"Might I explain before you actually try to kill me?" Tom asked as he dodged a stunning spell.

"What is there to explain? You destroyed my library because I am a woman and Muggle-born, what more reason could you possibly need?!" she growled, casting another crude spell.

"Those were my King's words, not my own, Hermione."

When he spoke her name, she stopped abruptly, her eyes narrowed as she measured him up. Could she trust him? No- he was a bloody Slytherin, of course he couldn't. Still, she did not raise her wand again, which gave him a bit of encouragement.

"Explain." Hermione demanded tersely.

"Salazar detests Muggleborns, as you very well know. And, when he, the Gryffindor oaf, had taken you in, he was... less than pleased. And so, he had declared a sort of cold war between the two lands. His birthday present to you on this oh so happy occasion," he practically sneered every word, but she ignored it. "was a burned down library. Fortunately for you, I found most books to be quite useful and far to valuable to be burned, and your library, in it's entirety, is in one piece. Well, it will be, if I could perhaps reach it."

Hermione crossed her arms. "Harry and Ron are guarding outside- how is it that you plan to go there? You know you very well can't Apparate within Godric's Castle," she told him.

"Very aware, little witch. But, I was hoping you could, perhaps, help me with that."

-

It turned out that helping him would involve knocking Harry and Ron unconscious so that the two could slip out of her room together without their notice. She glared at Tom every few minutes while he continued to smirk and stroll along the halls of Godric's Castle as if he owned the place. Pompous, arrogant bastard. If it didn't work, and she did not get her library back, Salazar Slytherin would have one less heir to show off.

"Relax, little witch, I assure you that it will work," he confirmed calmly.

"It better," she growled. Silence surrounded them once more and Hermione was deep in thought as the rhythmic sound of their footsteps clicking against the floor echoed in her ears. She knew, without a doubt, that even if her Library was somehow restored to it's former glory she still would not forgive him. Her entire collection had been burned to a crisp, and that was something not so easily forgiven.

Once they reached the doorway leading to her precious library, the smell of burnt parchment and ink filled her nostrils, it made her nauseous. She murmured under her breath, casting a quick repelling charm on herself and Tom did the same. Tom pushed the door open as they slowly entered the charred room, and Hermione bit her lip to hold back the sob that was sure to erupt. Everything in the room, the beautiful library she had cherished with her heart and soul, was charred and burned, barely recognizable. She severely hoped that he would be able to fix it, because she was unaware of any spell that could. Slowly though, Tom began to chant and she recognized the Dark Arts immediately. Dark Arts was banned from Godric's Castle, but from a few trips to Rowena's Kingdom and into her library, she knew quite a bit of it.

"Tom, when you're finished, you will have to leave. My Father has wards to alert him when the Dark Arts are being used," she explained, but he did not reply. She didn't expect him to, after all, using a chant like that required all of someone's concentration, he blinked, and that was all she got as a response. Hermione turned to her room, and to her astonishment, her library was slowly restoring itself. The wooden floors were returning to their original honeyed color, and the cherry wood bookshelves were repairing themselves as well.

Watching magic like that was simply amazing, and soon her magnificent Library was back to normal. Hermione beamed, about to turn toward Tom in thanks, but she realized that he was already gone. She was still angry at him, but he could be forgiven, if, that is, he completed one thousand tasks to earn her forgiveness.

It would be a month later until she saw Tom again, and it had been very briefly. He had given her a note, and a peck on the cheek (it still burned, but she somehow... liked it, as alarming as the thought was) before he left. She did not call after him, but smirked slightly as she opened the note.

_'I do hope that my gift soothed your temper, my little witch._

_ Forgive me?_

_ Tom'_

Deciding not to appear in the Land of Snakes for many reasons, Hermione had owled her response instead. Her lovely owl, named Cheshire, was a snowy owl and happened to be Hedwig's mother. Cheshire often resided in the owlery, but she knew when Hermione needed her, and so today she was waiting inside her chambers. Hermione pet the animal affectionately before sitting before her desk. She grabbed some spare parchment and wrote,

_'One thousand things you must do_

_to compensate for one of my books, times two._

_Nine-hundred Ninety Nine things to go_

_How will your repentance show?_

_Hermione'_

Smiling, Hermione rolled the parchment up quickly before tying it with a silver ribbon onto Cheshire's leg.

"Give this to Tom Marvolo Riddle. Stay hidden in the trees until you find him, darling, as he resides among the snakes." She kissed the owl's forehead affectionately before Cheshire flew off out the window, and off into the distance. Hermione busied herself in the days that passed with her lessons, and dwelling in her library. Harry and Ron were often her constant companions, but when they were not available she called on Miss Lovegood and Miss Weasley. Ginny and Luna were perhaps her two most cherished friends, besides Ron and Harry, and she loved them both dearly, despite Ginny's boyish behavior and Luna's odd quirks.

Finally Cheshire returned to her in one piece, and this time a parchment tied with a red ribbon was attached to her leg. Hermione gave Cheshire a treat before retrieving the letter, and she unrolled it with a small smile on her face.

_'What a silly little witch you are, my dear. Nine-hundred and Ninety Nine things?  
Surely you are jesting. Still, if you are not, I shall do my best to please you._

_ Tom'_

She noted how he did not use a silly rhyme, but she could not help herself when she wrote that. Still, at least he accepted her challenge. Still, though, it made her wonder.

What exactly did Tom Riddle want from her?

Hermione was not a fool. She knew fairly well of the evils that Slytherins claimed to be good, how they studied the Dark Arts above everything else. She also knew of Tom's affection for it, which was why she was a bit hesitant when it came to him. He was obsessed with the Dark Arts just as he was obsessed with following Slytherin's ideals and the magical world ruling over the Muggle one. She was hesitant, but not driven away. Not yet.

Months passed, and slowly things were crossed off. He sent her trinkets until she finally asked for him not to do so, and then he sent her books. They were all on the Dark Arts, so she was forced to hide them in Rowena's own library if she wanted to read them, with her permission of course. Every time she visited Rowena (which was a lot, and not much had changed due to her books) she would sit in the library and read them. Although Rowena was good, she did not, however, claim to not be evil. In fact, she often stated that what she was mattered to no one and nothing so long as she did the right thing, and how she spent her time mattered to no one but herself. So, it wasn't particularly odd for her to have Dark books in her library. And so Hermione would not be suspected.

Hermione had long forgiven Tom for burning her library, and well, he had only three things left to do to 'fully' earn her forgiveness. Aside from books, he often took her out. Slowly a relationship formed between them, but Hermione, even with all her knowledge, had no idea of what the feelings were, or where they originated from. But the excitement of kissing him on the cheek, or even a deep kiss, or the mere thought of sneaking out so the two could meet along the borders, it was a thrilling experience. And she doubted she would be strong enough to relinquish their relationship, whatever it was.

Dancing, singing, or even the theater, Tom made sure that they had a wonderful time until dawn approached, and then they would have to depart. But no matter what, each and every night they would meet at the border, and then go to the Muggle world where they could easily hide away from those that would disapprove. She always felt a certain sense of joy when around him, especially when he would smirk, or, on rare occasions, smile.

It was true that more often than not that they would argue. Occasionally, it would be on the little things, but then sometimes it was something big, but bickering between the two was not uncommon. They would challenge each other mentally and magically, pushing the other to their limits. They were equals.

And, if Hermione contemplated on it for too long, she would say she was in love.

Love. Not often was that something she would have ever considered. She loved her father, she loved Rowena, she even loved Harry and Ron. It was easy to love them. It wasn't easy to love Tom.

Sure, he took her out. They had fun together. But more often than not something would come up, like his fascination with the Dark Arts, and the fact that he is a Slytherin, come into play, and she being a Muggleborn and a Gryffindor, they clashed. She knew the Dark Arts, but she did not speak of them with such love and obsession as he did. She was intrigued by it, but the thought of actually using the spells she had learned in the books he gave her repulsed her beyond belief.

But then, something struck her. It was something that her mother had told her a long time ago, when she was a little girl. It had always been embedded into her brain, as Hermione had always taken her mother's advice to heart.

_"Love is a choice, dearest. You will soon learn that. It is not the gushy, sentimental feelings, although they will start that way. Soon the spark will fade, and you are left with a choice. Continue loving the man with all your heart and soul, despite his flaws and weaknesses, or don't. It is the most difficult choice you will ever have to make, dear, but I have faith in you."_

As her mother's words faded, Hermione sighed. She had no idea what she felt for Tom, and she knew that soon she would have to make the choice of whether or not to love him or not. When, she did not know. But soon.

Her eyes fell onto the bracelet that he had given to her. It was made of the finest gold and silver, mixing, while rubies and emeralds dotted the surface. Slytherin and Gryffindor united. She smiled and slipped it on before glancing at herself in the looking glass. She wore simple Muggle clothes so that she could blend in with the crowd when she and Tom entered the Muggle World. Her hair was pinned up in a bun, although a few loose curls tumbled down and framed her face.

Thinking she was decent enough, and lovely enough to at least go out with Tom, Hermione walked out onto the balcony. There she grabbed her Firebolt, which her father had bought for her to encourage her to fly. She deemed it a useless effort, as she will never stop being afraid of hieghts, but it was a rather useful thing to have when she needed to fly off the balcony and to the Apparating point. She felt bad, because all she used the Firebolt for was to disobey him, but what else could she do? While within the boundaries, she could not apparate. As she held on tightly to the Firebolt, nearing the Apparation point, she noticed three people, one being her father. And he looked angry.

She descended, falling to the ground gracefully before looking up at him curiously. He was angry, but why? Looking at Harry and Ron, they appeared sad. What had happened? Realization soon dawned on her, and she could not believe it. Surely the didn't know, did they?

No.

They couldn't know. She had been careful when leaving, she had always been careful. But surely... Looking into her father's eyes, pain struck her heart because she knew, without a doubt, that he knew. And he was angry for it. Once more, she was angry at herself for disappointing him.

"What have you got to say for yourself, Hermione?" He boomed angrily. Hermione flinched, tears glistening in her eyes. She was so sorry. But she couldn't... she couldn't give in now. She just couldn't.

"Father, I am confused, I-"

"You have been fraternizing with the enemy!" He yelled. A tear fell, but it had gone ignored. Not once in her entire life as his daughter had she ever been yelled at, for she had always been a well-behaved child. There had simply been no reason for it. Yet, here he was, her father, yelling at her. She could not help but think she deserved it.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, but it had gone unheard as a sickening crack filled the air. All eyes were drawn to Tom, who was watching her carefully. Her father was glaring at him, and if looks had the capability to kill, Hermione was quite sure that Tom would be dead right now. Tom payed him no mind, however, and that, possibly, made her father even angrier. But it made her happy, as Tom only had eyes for her.

He walked toward her in even strides, and not a word was spoken between them. He simply brushed away her tear, and their fingers intertiwned. As warmth, joy, and inexplicable bliss filled her very being, she knew without a doubt that she loved him. Despite his flaws, she loved him, and she never wanted him to change, no matter what happened, or what he did. She would always love him.

"We will be together forever, Hermione," Tom said as he stroked her cheek. "I give you my word."

It was then a large crack filled the air once more, and three Slytherins, including the Slytherin King himself, stood on the other side of them. Salazar's eyes, as Grey as the purest of silver, studied her they were filled with immeasurable hatred, and that was something that could never change. She was a Muggleborn, after all, and he loathed them just as Godric loathed the Dark Arts. No words were spoken, only wands were drawn. By doing so, Salazar had declared war on the Land of Lions, and so Godric was forced to accept. Slytherins on one side of Hermione and Tom, Gryffindor on the other. They were stuck in the middle, forced to choose a side.

But as two misfired curses flew, a flash of green surrounded her, and Hermione felt nothing, nothing at all, as she felt the life leave her, as well as Tom.

Nothing. Nothing at all.

* * *

I promise I will write another chapter, and trust me, it's going to be a bit different from this one. More modern. Please review, or else I may just be tempted not to update for a really really long time.


	2. Chapter 2

_A T_ale _O_f _T_wo.

-

_Summery: _She had no need to prove herself of anything. She was it. Brave. Loyal. Logical. And even sometimes rash, she was the ideal Gryffindor. And so, she was rightfully called the Gryffindor Princess. As for him? He was witty, acidic, intelligent and cunning. Subtlety was one of his finer qualities, unlike his patience. Heir of Slytherin. They were suited for their roles incredibly, although, there was one little snag. After all, mortal enemies were never meant to fall for one another, now were they?

**Note:** This is the last chapter. It is now in the 'Modern' times, but there are few significant changes, I believe. Oh! And forgive me, I had forgotten about Percy last chapter. Let's just pretend he was never born then, shall we? I'm not too fond of him.

**_Warning: _Voldemort may appear to be OOC. I tried my best to keep him in character, but if I failed forgive me. He's god-awfully stubborn, and really hard to write. **

And a big thank you goes to all that reviewed, faved, and alerted this story. I appreciate it!

Voldemort/Hermione

_'Parseltongue'_

_"Flashback" / Flashback  
_

* * *

-

For years she has lived in the Malfoy Manor. In fact, she has lived there since she was nine years of age. However, she clearly did not belong there. She was not of pureblood birth, in fact, she was a Muggleborn. A Muggleborn witch wasn't rare these days, but they were still despised, and she was no exception. The Malfoys had to grudgingly adopt her as a daughter (because they were the ones to kill her parents when she was nine, on orders, but from who, she did not know.) but in no way was she treated as one, except, of course, when in public. She learned quickly that they were all about image, the vain lot.

On many occasions they tried to beat her parent's teachings out of her, insisting that her parents had been filth and that she, a Mudblood, should be grateful to be accepted among such a family like the Malfoys. She wasn't grateful, however, and she knew for a fact her parents weren't filth. Opposing them has earned her quite a few bruises, scars, and a great many of painful memories, but she still did not believe her parents to be filth. In her opinion, the Malfoys were.

Hermione sighed as she hugged her robe closer to her form. She hated him, whoever ordered her to be there. She hated him with a passion. It was his fault she was here in the first place. He had ordered her to be taken, and it was because of him her parents were dead. Not to mention the fact that this Dark Lord who had ordered her kidnapping and the death of her parents was the same Dark Lord who had killed Harry's parents and ruined his life, while still attempting to further destroy it. Hermione sighed, weary. It was a damn good thing she only had to bear with the Malfoys for the summer, otherwise she would very well go insane. If only they allowed her to go visit Harry and Ron! How she missed them so.

When Harry had spoken of the Dark Lord, Voldemort, had risen again, she knew without a doubt that he was the same man who the Malfoys praised so highly, and would soon grovel so lowly for. She was disgusted at the man. Using the power he so obviously did not deserve but had to force others into submission, thinking that they were worthless beings compared to him. It was sickening. Still though, she had suspected that she would be summoned to see him, yet she had not been, and it was already the second week of the summer. She knew for a fact that Draco had already been summoned, as he would not quit boasting about how his Lord only saw those worthy of being seen. She couldn't help but retort that if he had no desire to see her, then why would he have her parents killed just so she could live in the Malfoy Manor, long before her first year at Hogwarts? He had nothing to say to that, and she had relished in her victory.

She whispered a spell and the time appeared before her. It was one in the morning, and she was still unable to sleep. So, she decided to go outside. It has long been a habit of hers to go outside into the gardens when she was unable to sleep, ever since she was a little girl. It provided her a sort of peace, watching the stars twinkle like diamonds in the sky with nothing but the faint chirping of crickets to keep her company. She wasn't about to change her habits because a certain Dark Lord had decided to reside there.

So, pulling her robe tighter around her, slipping on her favorite fuzzy slippers, she slipped out of her room and walked slowly down the hall. It was awfully cold, she noticed, despite the usual summer heat. She briefly wondered why that was, but decided not to think about it too much. It did not take long to leave the house, and so she instantly sought out her favorite seat in the gardens. The bench sat underneath a tree that branched out in a way that it provided you with a sense of security, but it did not obscure your vision should you choose to gaze at the stars. In a few minutes, she found her favorite seat, but was dismayed to see it already occupied. Her steps halted, and she was about to return to her room, so as to not disturb the man, who was undoubtedly the Dark Lord known as Voldemort, when he stopped her.

"You do not have to leave," he said. She looked at him curiously for a few minutes, wondering why he wasn't cursing her where she stood. Hermione bit her lip. What should she do? Leave, stay? What did he expect her to do? She was a bit uneasy, but did not leave.

"Sir?" Hermione had instantly resolved not to call him 'My Lord' or 'Master', because quite frankly, he wasn't. However, she wasn't stupid enough to disrespect him in any way. She would prefer not to be on the receiving end of one his his Crucio's, thank you very much.

"Come, Miss Granger. Sit," he said, patting the seat beside him. Still, he did not look at her, but instead gazed at the stars. She knew for a fact it wasn't a request, but a demand, and she didn't want to get on this man's bad side. Of course, being his enemy's best friend might put a damper on that little goal of hers. Hermione swiftly sat down beside him, but because her favorite bench already had a limited space, she was sitting relatively close to him, and it made her a bit uncomfortable.

Silence surrounded them, and Hermione had no desire to disturb it. She felt.. strange, all of a sudden. As if she already knew him, but that was impossible. She had just met him, but she felt as if she knew him for as long as a lifetime, and perhaps many more lifetimes afterwards. It was a strange feeling, and strange related to the unknown, and the unknown scared her. A lot.

"Tell me, Miss Granger, have you enjoyed your stay here?" he asked, finally looking at her. She didn't meet his eyes, unsure of how she should respond.

"Be truthful, dear. I can tell when you lie to me." Hermione looked him straight in the eye now, her eyes narrowed, but responded with,

"Truthfully sir, I would rather live the life of an orphan than stay here. They treat me as if I am filth because of my blood, but I am not. They beat me and," she smiled a bit as she added this, "It's gotten to the point where I am immune to the Cruciatus Curse. Even Bellatrix has a hard time tormenting me, it frustrates her, and it's terribly amusing."

However, Voldemort was not amused, and she hoped that she wasn't the cause of his anger. His obvious rage radiated off of him like the sun on a hot summer day, a day where no one could be outside without risk of being burned. She directed her eyesight elsewhere, shuddering when he asked her another question. His voice was cold, empty. But it was also soft, and terribly calm. He was his worst when he spoke like this, she knew.

"Have they always tortured you?"

Hermione nodded. "They make a sport of it, sir," she replied weakly. "Sir... may I ask you something?"

Voldemort looked at her, his red eyes glittering in amusement. Hermione could not help but noticed how the moon illuminated his already pale skin, making him appear to be a ghost. He was a ghost with snake like features then, she thought, noticing his flattened nose and the slits that replaced his nostrils.

"I believe you just did, but you may ask me another one."

"Why... why did you wish for me to live here?" Hermione inquired softly. "When Lucius killed my parents, he informed me that it was your desire that I lived with them. Why? I am just a Muggleborn, I can't help but be confused."

"That, my dear, is something that you will learn in time. When you do, you will understand perfectly."

"Oh..."

Silence surrounded them once more, but it wasn't as uncomfortable as the first. After a few moments Voldemort requested that she tell him all about her. She was a bit wary, of course, but what other choice did she have? If he could truly tell if she was lying, he would know if she was fabricating anything. So, she sighed and told him of her first year at Hogwarts, and how she had been given the choice of Gryffindor, Slytherin, or Ravenclaw. She knew fairly well that the Malfoys would simply hate it if she was in Slytherin, what with her being a Mudblood and all, but she did not want to be in Slytherin simply because it meant she would have to deal with the youngest Malfoy, Draco, more often. So she chose Gryffindor. That was when she met Ron and Harry. They didn't like her at all because of her last name, not knowing one bit of her past and thinking she really was a Malfoy by birth, and no one else liked her either. Not to mention she was a know-it-all.

She then explained how she became friends with Harry and Ron, leaving nothing out, especially when she had passed Snape's logic test. That seemed to impress him greatly, and she couldn't help but be a little bit pleased at the prospect. Then she explained how in her second year, when everyone was wondering what was going on and how a few muggleborns were being petrified, how she had studied endlessly on the subject.

"I had a hunch of what was happening, because I had read a book about magical beasts in my spare time. I remembered reading something, but at that time I couldn't remember what it had side. Not to mention we still had to find out who the heir of Slytherin was," she said, and continued on to tell him how she had successfully made a polyjuice potion in order to get some information on Draco. "By that time I was really regretting on not becoming a Slytherin, because I could have found out a lot easier. But when I thought of my friends, I didn't anymore."

After she told him of how she had accidentally nicked cat hair from Parkinson's clothing, Voldemort had chuckled. She hadn't found it very funny, but continued on anyway. "It took me a while to remember, but I finally found the book with the page on the basilisk. Unfortunately for me, the damn thing happened to be behind me, and I saw it's eyes through Penelope Clearwater's mirror. I had stolen it because I didn't have one of my own. So, Obviously, I had been petrified. Harry didn't tell me much of what happened while I was, but he had killed the snake with Godric's sword and destroyed the journal that had possessed another friend of mine, Ginny." she told him.

She continued on, telling him every thing she did at Hogwarts up until the present day. Voldemort listened in silence, making only a few comments here and there, and she had responded appropriately. Finally she yawned and said with a tired smile,

"Sir, what is it that you expect of me? You know perfectly well I will never betray Harry. I've told you everything you no doubt will hear or already have heard from others, I can't help but wonder what kind of use it is to you. Knowing about me will not help you in your goals, it just seems a bit... pointless."

"I don't expect anything of you, Miss Granger, I merely wish to know you." He told her and stood up swiftly. He watched her contemplatively before swooping down and kissing her on the forehead, something that shocked her greatly. He looked at her only for a minute longer to study her reaction before smirking, leaving with billowing cloaks behind him. Hermione sat there only for a few more minutes, wondering why in the world the Dark Lord would converse with her, much less kiss her, even if it was on the forehead. Had it been on the cheek or anything else, it would still have shocked her, probably more so.

It would be another week before she saw him again, and she happened to be interrupting his council. She hadn't meant to, but she had no idea that he would be holding council that day in the library. In fact, she would have liked to avoided it, because she knew for a fact that Bellatrix would be there, and she loathed the woman with a passion. Even if the Cruciatus Curse didn't have the same affect on her as it had in the beginning, it was still very painful. But she did not cry once when she was Crucio'd, and she did it to spite them all.

"Forgive me, sir. I did not mean to interrupt, I just came for a few books." She told him truthfully. He nodded slowly, but she could tell he was not pleased.

"Take the books, Miss Granger, then leave." He told her coldly. Hermione nodded briefly in thanks before heading toward the desired books. Most of the books in the Malfoy Library were restricted to her, but she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if Lord Voldemort said she could take them, she could. The Malfoys wouldn't dare defy him.

"Scum! Why do you not bow before the Dark Lord? It is in his good graces that you still live here!" Bellatrix howled viciously. Hermione glanced to her, and then to the Dark Lord. He did nothing, simply watched. It was clear to her that he wanted to see what she would do.

"It was by his _good graces_ that I was even brought here in the first place," she told Bella, scowling. "And besides, I do not bow to anyone, even if he is a Dark Lord." With that she left, smirking, because an outraged group of Death Eaters was in the room. When she returned to her own room, she looked at the books she had chosen. Back in her second year, she hadn't thought much of the journal that Harry had destroyed. But now, it just didn't sit well with her that a journal was able to respond to someone when it was written in, and possess someone else. It just didn't seem right, even if it was magic.

So, she had decided to make use of the time here and figure it out. It might be a difficult thing to do if you looked in the 'Good' or 'Neutral' books, but she knew that if anything, books on the Dark Arts would provide some information. So, she had chosen '_Magick Moste Evile_' by Godelot and a small, rather thin book that had been beside it. The book had no title, but she had gotten it simply because it might provide a bit of information. The ones with the most information was the ones that were unregistered. And the unregistered are unregistered because they would not be published, due to their contents.

Hermione decided to read Magick Moste Evile. Slowly she picked it up and sighed, opening to the front page. Hopefully she won't regret this later...

_Magic can be the most wonderful, yet terrible thing...._

In total, Hermione had spent three hours reading that one book. And it had to be the most wasteful three hours she has ever spent. That book said nothing of inanimate objects being able to respond to others, or able to possess another. Suddenly Hermione felt very silly. She was just wasting her time. Unless she could study that journal (which would have to include getting it from Dumbledore in the first place, a near impossible task) she wouldn't be able to know what she was looking for. There was something that it had mentioned, Horcruxes, but it had mentioned it fleetingly and regarded it as the most dangerous, vile thing someone could ever do to themselves and another. It hadn't mentioned anything afterward, and Hermione saw is at the most probable explanation. If only she knew what a Horcrux was!

Hermione whispered the same spell she used a week before and the time showed it to be midnight. She yawned. She was awfully tired. Still, though, she really wanted to find out what in the world a Horcrux was. Perhaps she should read that small book now. Hermione yawned as she set aside Magick Moste Evile down and grabbed the smaller one, but before she could, she was stopped by a cold, pale hand. She looked, and sure enough, it was Lord Voldemort.

"I am curious, Miss Granger," he spoke softly, but she was unsure of whether or not he was angry with her. Still, it frightened her beyond her wits. "Why would these two books interest you?" he finished.

"I... I.." she stuttered foolishly, looking away from him. "I was... it just doesn't sit well with me that a journal could possess someone, I was just curious as to how that could happen. It would take a great deal of magic from the caster..."

"You were just curious," he repeated. Hermione nodded fervently.

Lord Voldemort raised a nonexistent eyebrow and said, "Have you ever heard Curiosity killed the Cat?"

Hermione tilted her head to the side and said, "It isn't Curiosity, sir, but foolishness."

Voldemort smirked, taking both books from her. "Be it Curiosity or Foolishness Miss Granger, I would not look into it, if I were you." With a wave of his wand, the books were banished from the room. Hermione frowned, but did not protest. "I have been lenient with you, Miss Granger. I would not advise disrespecting me in front of Bellatrix again, she was itching to kill you."

"But you won't let her." It was a statement, not a question, but one of observation and not a demand. Therefore, it was not, in any manner, disrespectful to the Dark Lord. He looked at her, amused, and nodded.

"Why is that?" she inquired.

"Yet another thing you will learn in due time," he responded, and Hermione sighed. She really wanted to know why he was so... dare she say it... kind to her. It just seemed unreal. She was sure he would not give this much kindness to anyone, even his most faithful servant. So why her? Why did he show even a smidgen of mercy to her, a Mudblood? She personally didn't see herself as filth, but he was the Dark Lord for heaven's sake! Shouldn't he be all about pureblood supremacy? Hermione sighed for the umpteenth time that day, wishing she was with Harry and Ron at the moment.

"Patience, my dear, patience. You will learn, I promise you. But now is not the time. On another note, should I see you reading these two books again, I will be forced to punish you. Is that clear?"He whispered into her ear harshly. Hermione nodded, but only one thing really registered in her mind. There was something in those books that he did not want her to read.

"Good, sweet dreams, my dear." With a wave of his wand, Hermione fell asleep.

Many encounters between the two happened during the summer, and none were any less interesting than the first and second. Some were cold, when she had made a rude comment and he did torture her. The Cruciatus Curse caused by Lord Voldemort is perhaps the worst she has ever experienced. Bellatrix's own really were nothing compared to his. Hermione soon learned that though he was lenient with her, he would not simply allow her to disobey him directly, or indirectly, for that matter.

Some encounters were good. Sometimes she would converse with him about many different subjects of magic, sometimes arguing with him, and they would also play chess. She was terrible at it, and almost always lost to the Dark Lord, but once she was taught properly, she did pose a real challenge. Of course, she still lost, but it wasn't as barbaric as she had originally thought.

Most of those encounters, however, involved Death Eaters, especially one Bellatrix Lestrange. Bellatrix hated her even more than ever before, especially since she had become Lord Voldemort's new favorite. It killed Bella, which was why Hermione found it so amusing. She was more respectful to him, however, something he acknowledged, and grudgingly, so did everyone else. Draco hated her even more as well, and sneered at her every chance he got, which was nothing unusual, aside from the fact that his insults were getting a bit more vicious.

Professor Snape, who she saw more often than she expected to see, was not surprised to see her, considering she was an official Malfoy to the public. However, he did express his concerns to his Lord about her hearing things she should not, when she was present. It didn't matter, really, because although she was there, she was never around for any of his meetings, and she knew of no Death Eater outside of Lucius, Narcissa, Bella and Rodulphus, and, of course, Snape, who stayed there most of the time.

Of course, Voldemort shared his concern as well. It never really crossed her mind to help Harry or the Light side in general because he was here, simply because, well, what could she tell them? She was currently living with the Dark Lord and that he was actually kind to her? (In a weird sort of way, of course, the thought of Voldemort being kind is just plain barmy altogether.) Oh yes, they were definitely going to believe that. But, Snape was sure to tell Dumbledore that she was there, and was often conversing with him. Hermione growled beneath her breath. That was definitely going to pose as a problem. Would Dumbledore want her to spy? She couldn't possibly- she was at Hogwarts most of the time, and well.. how in the world would she be able to spy on him when she was there? Not that she would, mind, but... well, how could she deny Dumbledore?

Hermione turned around when she felt Voldemort looking at her, and she saw a strange look in his eyes. She frowned.

"Sir?"

"Tell me, dear, what do you plan to do about your little problem?" He asked, hands folded in his lap. He leaned leisurely in his armchair, with Severus sitting beside him. Hermione frowned, thoroughly confused.

"Problem, sir? I don't-"

"The Potter brat, dear. What will you tell him?" Voldemort interrupted sternly.

"What can I tell him? That I happened to spend the summer with the same man who murdered his parents? There isn't much I can do, Sir, and I'm sure Professor Dumbledore already knows, it's not as if he can't connect two and two together." Hermione sighed, frustrated. "Besides, it's not as if I can tell them anything, because there is simply nothing to tell." With that, she gave a slight bow to Voldemort, and a nod to Snape, before leaving the room.

"Just makes sure she keeps quiet, Severus, and do the same for Draco. Do not harm her, however. I would be most displeased if anything happened to her."

Severus bowed lowly as he said, "Yes, My Lord," wondering why in the world Hermione Jean Granger-Malfoy could interest a man such as the Dark Lord.

Summer came and went, and Hermione was inexplicably happy that she could return to Hogwarts. Voldemort, however, was not. He did not make it blatantly obvious, but he was perhaps more irritable to others, and herself in particular, than ever before. Hermione made sure all of her bags were packed, shrinking them so they might fit into her jeans pocket. She was ready to leave. The question was, was his royal Highness, Draco Malfoy, ready. Hermione practically skipped off toward Malfoy's room, and in result, she almost ran into Voldemort.

"Oh, forgive me sir!" she cried, a wide smile on her face.

"I see you are.. happy," he said, the word foreign to his lips.

Hermione nodded. "Very much so, sir. Hogwarts is my home, I'm hoping to teach there one day." she informed him. Malfoy forgotten, Hermione walked beside Voldemort when he gestured her to do so.

"And what are you hoping to teach?" Voldemort inquired softly.

"I don't know, quite honestly. I suppose I'll know by my seventh year."

"What are your best subjects?"

"Well," Hermione bit her lip, wondering if it would do any damage if she answered. So far, Voldemort has only answered questions about her, and not Harry. Still, would it be safe?

Sensing her hesitance, Voldemort assured her, "I give you my word that nothing you say will be used against you or your... friends." Hermione nodded in understanding. A wizard's word was his bond.

"I do well in all my classes, aside from Defense. That one is a bit difficult, but I do enjoy it. This year I'm taking Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Transfiguration, Potions, Charms, Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures. I dropped Divination in my third year because it was complete and utter rubbish." she explained.

Voldemort chuckled. "Perhaps I should have asked which one interests you the most," he said. Hermione blushed, replying with,

"Well, in all honesty, Potions does. But I don't think I will be able to get an O on my O.W.L for Potions, and if I don't, Professor Snape will never allow me into his N.E.W.T. class," She fretted.

"You will do extraordinary, Hermione. You are an intelligent witch. Now, off with you. Wouldn't want you to be late for your precious train," he sneered. Hermione nodded to him before leaving his presence, her heart heavy. She would miss him. She hated admitting it, but she knew she would. And she couldn't feel that way. He was the enemy, no one else. Even if he was the slightest bit kind to her.

At Hogwarts, things were practically back to normal, aside from Dumbledore watching her like a hawk, and the same went for Severus. It annoyed her that Dumbledore's lack of trust, and as for Snape, it annoyed her that he was even following Voldemort's orders. She listened to Ron and Harry's complaints as calmly as she could, although Ron's complaints were a bit mild. All he ever complained about was how he had to clean Sirius' home, while Harry complained of the fact that Dementors attacked him at Little Whinging, and the fact that nobody believed him about Voldemort being alive. Oh, and not to mention the fact that Umbridge was a pain in the arse, making him write lines and all that with his own blood.

Classes were getting harder, and Hermione found that, once Dumbledore's Army had started, it was a great relief learning all those defense moves. Voldemort, as far as she could tell, was starting to get impatient. At least, that's what Harry told her. She was wondering what about, and Harry had the same question.

"Surely you must know where he's at? After all, you do live with the Malfoys, and they're Death Eaters-"

"Harry, do you honestly think that they would say anything while I'm around? They know you are my best friend, honestly..." Hermione said, frustrated. She closed the book she had been reading, it had been about Occlumency, and walked up the stairs to her Dormitory. She said from the steps,

"Even if I knew, Harry, I don't think there is much you could do about it. Or anyone, for that matter."

Since she the term had started, Hermione had been dreaming strange dreams. They were of herself and a man named Tom, all in different time frames, sometimes good dreams and sometimes bad, although they were not quite nightmares, and she always woke up screaming from an immense headache. She has never in her life known a man Tom, but whenever she saw his face i just seemed so... familiar. She found herself longing for that Tom person, and she didn't understand why. It was as if she... loved that man. But she did not know him. She would have talked to Dumbledore about the dreams, however, considering he no longer trusted her, she wouldn't. She knew for a fact she should, if anything he could help her, but he probably thought that she was spying for Voldemort, which she wasn't.

It was because of the dreams she was reading an Occlumency book. She knew she did not have a connection to Voldemort like Harry did, but it could not hurt to prepare herself, and occlude herself from those dreams, now could it? Besides, what if she would need to occlude her mind from Voldemort? If he did not know about her telling Harry about him living with the Malfoys, she could not be harmed, right? Right.

But that Tom person.. why was it that he seemed familiar? She was sure that she had never met a Tom before, and the only Tom person she has ever heard of would be the one that Ginny had spoke briefly of, in the journal. She had said in her confidence that the man had been very charming, and handsome, whenever he would appear before her. His name had also been Tom.

"Harry..." she had said one day. It was December, and the Term was about to end. The last DA meeting (where Cho had kissed Harry, she was informed) had been a few hours ago, and Ron was already in bed.

"Hm?" He replied noncommittally, he was still a bit sour about before, when she had refused to answer him. Not to mention Dumbledore wasn't speaking to him either. She sighed.

"Tom... the one in the journal, what was his full name?"

Harry looked at her from his Divination homework and frowned."Tom Marvolo Riddle. When you rearrange the letters, it says 'I am Lord Voldemort.' Why?" Hermione's quill stilled, and she took in a deep breath. It was then she remembered something. A dream, and it scared her immensely.

_He had taken her cake. How dare that man! He knew very well how she hated to have her cake taken from her, especially during that time of month! Oh, she was ready to kill him. Her wand hand was already twitching at the thought. She frowned as she looked around the house that they occupied together. _

_"TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE! YOU BETTER GIVE ME MY BLOODY CAKE!" she screamed out. Chuckling is what she heard next. Hermione turned around, and there he was, eating her cake. That irritating bastard! He was trying to annoy her on purpose!_

No. No no no no. She couldn't. It couldn't be true. Harry watched her carefully, and she looked up at him with a small smile.

"Thanks, Harry."

He had just confirmed her fears. She stood up again, breathed a quiet goodnight, and then headed up to her bed. The reason she was so scared at the moment was simple. In those dreams, the feeling of love for that man Tom was very clear. She was always happy in those dreams, even though they happened to be very painful. Now, it was clear to her that those dreams weren't dreams, but memories, and that the man who she loved, because the girl had always been her, was Tom Marvolo Riddle. Lord Voldemort.

She was scared. If those were memories, than they were of life's past, because she had been the same age as him, and it was the exact age she was now. Things like these didn't happen, not even in the magical world. If there was a God up there, he was very cruel, for this was a subject she could not study on.

Hermione cried softly to herself as she realized that she loved Lord Voldemort, no matter what lifetime.

She had taken a dreamless sleep potion, but was awakened when Dumbledore had come to tell her what had transpired during the night. She was to go home, without Draco, who would join her in a few days when Term ended. She knew what Dumbledore wanted. He wanted her to see what Voldemort was up too. It was obvious though, wasn't it? He had, after all, possessed his damn snake Nagini and attacked Mr. Weasely. Even though she had only met the man once, she felt sorry for him and the Weasleys. What a terrible ordeal they were going through! Dumbledore had apalogized and siad that he would give her the coordinates of the Headquarters, but unfortunately for her, since she was so close to Voldemort, he would not give it.

Hermione packed her trunk furiously, not even caring that Dumbledore was still there waiting for her. He would escort her to the Apparition point, where Lucius, her adoptive father, would be waiting for her, and then he would take her 'home.' Once everything was packed, and her trunk shrunk and in her pocket, Dumbledore calmly excorted her to the grounds.

"Is Mr. Weasely alright?" she asked briskly.

"Yes, he should be fine."

"That's good."

Moments of silence passed, and Hermione wondered why the Hogwarts grounds had to be so damn big.

"You must forgive me Miss Granger, although I don't doubt your reliability," Hermione snorted at that, but he ignored her, "I must take precautions. I am very aware that you usually spend your Christmas with Harry and Mr. Weasely, but they will be staying with the Weaslets at Headquarters." Hermione nodded, spotting Lucius in the distance. She could tell he was sneering at her. She wasn't too happy about seeing him either, but it could not be helped.

Lucius and Dumbledore merely nodded to one another in greeting, obvious disdain shined in Lucius' eyes, while Dumbledore seemed oblivious, although she knew he was not. Lucius grabbed her arm roughly, and apparated away. On the grounds of Malfoy Manor once more, Lucius shoved her down to the ground.

"Exactly where you belong, Mudblood," he spat at her, before walking away briskly. Hermione stood up angrily before following him into the manor, heading straight to her room. She placed her trunk on the floor and un-shrank it, before collapsing on her bed and turned on her magically attuned radio. Most muggle items could not be used around magical items, or a place where magic resided, such as a wizard's home, but she had charmed it where it would be able to play. And it could play any song she desired. At that particular moment, she wanted nothing more than to piss Lucius Malfoy off. So, she played 'Welcome to the Jungle' by Guns N' Roses. They were a muggle band, and she knew for a fact that the Malfoys would hate it, so she played it all throughout the home.

No later than the second verse, Narcissa Malfoy opened her door angrily. She smirked as the woman tried her best to destroy the radio, but Hermione had also protected it from most attacks. It was hilarious watching the woman get worked up over it, and after she had just about given up, she screeched at Hermione,

"Would you turn that filth off!"

Hermione laughed and said, "No one short of Lord Voldemort could make me turn it off. He should be here any minute, so you don't have to hear it much longer." Hermione grinned. True to her words, Voldemort came in after Narcissa stormed off. He looked at her for a moment, and raised his eyebrows.

"Interesting choice of music, but must you share it with the entire household?"

Hermione shrugged. "To piss them off, yes, I must. Since I'm going to be stuck here for Christmas, then I have to make it their worst yet."

"Turn it off, Hermione." She sighed, but obeyed. "Why is it that Dumbledore sent you back so early?" Voldemort inquired, looking around her room. It was a very plain room, mostly filled with books she bought with her own money she had earned for performing odd jobs during the summer. Other than that, there wasn't much.

"Oh, the fact that Arthur Weasley was bitten by a snake and nearly died has a minor role in it," she informed him as Nagini lazily slithered inside. Hermione watched it warily. She has never been fond of snakes since she had been paralyzed by the basilisk, so she really had every right to be wary.

"Oh? And how would they know that?"

_'__The connection you and the Potter brat have, of course,'_ Nagini hissed. Hermione raised an eyebrow at the snake. How in the world was she able to understand her?

"I see..." Voldemort said thoughtfully, tapping his chin.

_'I like this one,'_ the snake hissed once more. _'She knows of a snakes intelligence, and does not think of me as an 'it''. _Voldemort looked from Nagini and Hermione thoughtfully, a small smirk on his face. He knew something. Hermione folded her arms across her chest and said to the snake,

_'__It's hard to think of a snake, or any animal for that matter, with so much personality as an 'it'.' _

"Curious..." Voldemort whispered, watching with pure amusement.

Hermione's eyes widened when she realized what exactly she had done. She had just spoken in Parseltongue. How was that even possible though?

_"Transferring one's powers is easily done, Hermione, and can even be accidental. That's why I have to be careful when cursing someone. But... I could do the same for you... It would make you so much more powerful." Tom's eyes glittered in amusement, anticipation, and delight. He already knew her answer. _

_"Fine, Tom." Hermione said with a sigh. "If it makes you happy."_

_"Believe me, my love, it does."_

Hermione screamed once the flashback was over. It felt as if a thousand bullets were pounding into her skull, pr that her brain was exploding from the inside out. It hurt so much she could not even see straight. She just wanted it to end, that's all that she wanted.

"Do not fight it, Hermione. It will be over soon, I promise." Voldemort assured her.

"You promise?" she whimpered.

Voldemort nodded. "I give you my word."

As the pain subsided, Voldemort pet her head comfortingly as she lied there on the bed. Her head was throbbing, but it no longer felt like her head was going to explode in a matter of seconds. Hermione closed her eyes briefly and sighed, lulled to sleep by the repeated motions of his hands.

Christmas soon came, and Hermione was no longer having trouble with coming to terms with the fact that, although it was destined, (After all, how many people returned to life just so they could truly be together forever? Each time they had returned and found each other, after a brief moment of happiness, they would soon die because of the impossibility of their love. But after a century or so, they would return again.) she loved, and would always love, Lord Voldemort, and all that he did, even the subject of immortality, it was all for her. It still seemed strange, however. He was a cruel person, of that there was no doubt, but he cared for her, and he would go to any lengths to ensure that she was with him.

"After all Hermione," he had said with a wicked smile, "you are mine." Strangely enough, she did not mind. Not at all.

She did not spend Christmas with the Malfoys, but with Voldemort, and he had gifted her with a beautiful emerald necklace. Now that she had regained all of her memories (it had been a painful process, but now that it was over and done with, she was thankful for it) she could truly be Voldemorts. Without a doubt in her mind she loved him, even though it meant betraying her friends. That fact broke her heart. She had made Voldemort promise not to harm her friends, and if he did not, than she would help him gain power. So long as none of her friends died.

The necklace, as she had been told, had been grafted by goblins. The stones were charmed with every single protective charm imaginable, and, once more, he had found that it gifted the wearer with immortality. She would not grow old so long as she wore it, and she would not die. She could now be his forever.

"I had made that promise to you, long ago, Hermione. Remember?" Hermione nodded. He had promised her that.

_"We will be together forever, Hermione," Tom said as he stroked her cheek. "I give you my word." _

A Wizard's word was his bond.

She smiled. He had kept his promise.

* * *

I hope it wasn't too bad. I had changed the other chapter a bit in the ending to fit this one a bit more, but it only includes the promise. I hope you enjoyed reading, and thank you so much for doing so!


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